Gifted
by RulerOfCats
Summary: Matilda spent her whole life, unloved, unwanted, and unchallenged intellectually. She fought tooth and nail to go to school, only to get forced out and dragged half way around the world by her ankles. Her letter to Hogwarts was an opportunity that she wouldn't waste-and the fact that it got her away from her vicious, criminally active parents was a hard plus. OC x (Idk yet)
1. Part 1

**Matilda and the Philosopher's Stone**

_"I always felt different from my family. I knew I didn't quite fit in, and in my attempts to mold myself into what they wanted, I left a few chips of myself behind."_  
**\- Matilda Wormwood**


	2. The Letter

Chapter 1

_"Why didn't I feel that I belonged to my parents? How early could I have known that I was not right? I think it has always been part of me. Can a newborn sense her parents' disappointment and feelings of frustration at not being able to change the unchangeable?"_  
Joan Frances Casey, The Flock: The Autobiography of a Multiple Personality

**MATILDA ALWAYS KNEW SHE WAS MEANT FOR MORE**, but not in the grand sense of being president, or waiting to get her shot at fame and fortune. None of those things could ever satisfy her. Perhaps once she dreamed small, perhaps when she was 6 years old and wanted only for Ms. Honey to adopt her.

Matilda Wormword learned the truth of the world very quickly in her life, escaping to London with her cheating and lying father, selfish mother, and idiotic brother. It was all the same to her, since she still had her powers to punish them when they did, what she believed, was morally wrong.

_It was peculiar._

Matilda was used to weird packages arriving in the mail, ranging from stolen car parts or TVs taken from homes while their owners were out of town. Matilda was used to it. She was homeschooled for this very reason, so she could be home to sign off on those suspicious goods that made her family flee America in the first place.

This was just a letter, marked with her address. However, she had never gotten a letter so fancy before, and she had especially never gotten one with a special wax seal. More than that, it was addressed to her. Matilda Wormwood was written smoothly on the cover, leaving the eleven year old girl rather confused since she had never gotten a letter from anyone before. Not even Ms. Honey, who she had not spoken to in nearly two years.

This was because her parents found out about her correspondence with her old teacher and punished her for being so selfish as to keep in contact with their old lives. Her father was far more careful now with his scams, and her mother had taken a to liking London, making it obvious that hell would pay if Harry Wormwood messes it up.

Matilda glanced around her, as if she were worried that her father would come up to scold her. No such thing happened, and slowly the irrational fear drifted away. Instead, she opened the letter, carefully preserving the beautiful paper.

The contents were even stranger. She read it over and over again, thinking she must have missed something with each read through. She did not.

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Of course, it was odd. The academic in her still needed convincing, but as she walked into the kitchen, barely thinking about it before the chair of the table pulled out on its own for her to sit down, she then realized it wasn't that strange. It wasn't unheard of or shocking.

It made sense.

Her family always told her that she was a freak. Perhaps this was why. It wasn't odd. She wasn't alone. However, she might as well have been, because she would never be permitted to go based on how much her parents detested the idea that she left the house for normal school.

Matilda dropped the letter to the ground and it immediately floated up to go into the bin while she wallowed, placing her cheek into her arms, and she thought about her helpless situation. She thought about the magic that seemed to help everybody else but never her. She didn't cry. She was done crying.

She thought it was hopeless, but then again, lately, what wasn't hopeless?

（╹◡╹）

It was late by the time Harry Wormwood arrived home, kicking off his shoes in the middle of the walkway without a care. He saw the package signed for near the door, and thankfully Matilda wasn't in sight of one of his many bad moods. He noticed, however, the oddity of an owl outside his front door, holding what looked to be a letter. Harry wasn't curious enough to open it, so instead he ignored it entirely without a care. His wife was nowhere to be seen, which was annoying considering that also meant there would be no dinner.

Just when he was about to scream at his useless daughter, he caught sight of the girl exiting the kitchen, her hair pushed back in a ribbon and her face sporting a small spot of grease.

"Dinners ready," she told him, hiding the fact that she wanted to put some laxatives in his beer since he had no problem selling shitty cars to desperate people.

However, she didn't do that. If she punished him too often, he would know and her fun would be over. She knew her family was stupid, but such a thing only goes so far. Matilda escaped a lecture for the night, retiring to her room where she spent the majority of her nights reading under a small and dim flashlight. Her parents detested when she read, so she always did her best to hide it when she could.

The sound of the television was blazingly loud, making her contemplate blowing it up again. She didn't, and instead escaped into the world of brave knights who always did what was right and beautiful descriptions of adventures that she'd love, more than anything, to see with her own eyes.

That was when she heard the sound of pecking at her window. She stood up to investigate, only to see the most beautiful owl staring back at her from the small area of space outside her window. She hesitated for a moment, already knowing her father would be unpleasantly annoyed if she let this bird into the house. Her hesitation was only for a split second before she opened the window and saw it, at that owls feet, the letter she had thrown in the bin. It was a new one, as beautiful and as tempting as the last one she had meticulously opened.

She stared at it with a glance of longing, wondering if this were some cruel joke. If it were, she wanted no part of it. She ran to her desk, lifting up the hidden compartment from under her drawer, rummaging through her letters that she saved to be sent to Ms. Honey. She found her note book that held the scribblings of the many letters she wanted to send to her former teacher, but never could due to fear that her father would find out she was still in contact. Maybe a small part of her was afraid to not get a reply.

She scribbled a small message, tearing it out of her book and carefully folding it. She rushed to the owl, feeling foolish. Still, it couldn't hurt. She took the letter it held, holding out her note.

"Can you deliver this back?" Matilda had no way of knowing if the owl knew to whom she was talking about, for she hadn't the faintest idea who sent it. Perhaps this was a cruel joke from her brother, who never took a shine to her. Perhaps not.

The owl held out its leg, taking the letter in its talons and flew off before she could say another word. In its quiet departure, she glanced down, once more at the letter she had read over nearly 100 times. She knew it couldn't be her family who wrote it, since they simply weren't clever enough to go through with it. She didn't have any friends who could have played such a joke, so she had no choice but to assume this could be the real thing.

She took a step back, her eyes narrowing as she watched the window close on its own. Matilda likely always knew what she was, and more than anything, she still wanted more.

Matilda stepped out for a moment, for a breath of fresh air, only to see yet another peculiar thing when she got back from her short trip to the library. It was a woman, in her later years, standing upon the Wormwood doorstep with a rather uncomfortable sort of expression on her face as she inspected the doorbell with a look of confusion. Slowly, she brought her finger up to the button but thought better of it and lowered it back to her side with a frown.

"How do you do?" Matilda greeted, watching the woman freeze.

"You must be Ms. Wormwood," the woman said, paying the girl no mind when Matilda's nose curled in distaste at the name.

"Yes, I suppose." Matilda didn't have to like it for it to be true.

"I am Minerva McGonagall, teacher of transfiguration at Hogwarts," the woman greeted, watching Matilda's brows shoot up. As much as the little girl tried to deny it, she was excited at the very mention of that name. "I got your letter."

The owl delivered it. It opened up more questions in Matilda's mind, but she dared not voice too many. Curiosity had a tendency to get on people's nerves and she didn't want to anger anyone.

Minerva opened up Matilda's sloppily ripped out piece of paper and cleared her throat. "Dear wizards, I wish to attend, but simply cannot due to my parents being bigoted jerks. Please send help."

Matilda's cheeks slightly reddened, pursing her lips with a slight frown. "I know. I wrote it."

"You are hardly the first muggleborn who has had these concerns," Minerva told her, raising her voice firmly.

"What a muggle?" Matilda asked.

"Non magic folk, but no matter that. I am here to help explain things to your family, if you require assistance," Minerva said, and Matilda frowned. "Normally Albus would handle this, but he's simply too busy."

"I don't need help telling them," Matilda said, because she wasn't afraid of that. She was afraid that even if she told them, they'd still never agree. "School is expensive. That's why I'm homeschooled Ms. McGonagall. They would never agree to a boarding school."

McGonagall looked over the girl with a brow raised. "Hogwarts is tuition free. The ministry of magic pays for all expenses." Matilda felt that traitorous bit of hope, and she took a step forward. "What I wanted to know is how, a girl such as yourself," Muggle born, "is so quick to accept a school of witchcraft so easily. Is your magic already manifesting so much?"

Matilda tilted her head to the side, "I always knew I was strange. It all just makes sense." As if to prove her point, Matilda held out her palm and the embarrassing letter that she wrote flew from the professor's hand and into her own.

"That's very interesting." Minerva was staring at the girl in a new light in the wake of her wand-less slide of magic. "You can perform wand less spells without any hinderance."

"It was hard at first, but I suppose now it's like second nature," Matilda admitted, watching the way the professor looked at her. "Is this not normal?"

Minerva shook her head, "perfectly normal."

Matilda, however, was insightful and intuitive. By now she had grown a gradual mistrust at adults, mostly because they always disappointed her. She naturally assumed they were lying until she had proof that they were not.

However, because her father had a surprisingly strong backhand, she had learned not to voice what she was thinking so often. "If I wanted, could I go without my parents permission?"

Minerva McGonagall looked as if she swallowed something sour. It was a long hesitation before she answered. "No. You need a guardian's permission."

Matilda nodded her head, having already expected as much. She knew, although she chided herself for thinking it, that her life might have been so much happier if only Ms. Honey had adopted her. Unfortunately, she was whisked away from America before she could even ask.

So, Matilda did what she always did when she was stressed. She tied her hair up into a ribbon, holding onto more hope that perhaps her parents could surprise her. However, even if they didn't agree, Matilda vowed to somehow make it through anyway.


	3. The Questioning

Chapter 2

**SOMETIMES, DESPITE HER ATTEMPTS TO FORGET**, Matilda would remember what Ms. Honey had told her, that one day, her life would change. Her family sat on the couch, just like every other day, watching the television as Matilda attempted to get their attention.

Of course, it worked, but then again, if the words 'mom, dad, I'm a witch' left her daughter's lips, Matilda would put down her book and listen too. However, now that she had their attention, she was unsure of what to do next.

"What?" Harry Wormwood never believed his daughter, even when she warned him that their house was being watched by the FBI back when he ran his business in America, only to have to escape to Guam and then Britain when things cooled down.

"Matilda," Zinnia Wormwood was just as displeased with her daughter's interruption of 'Whose Line Is It Anyway.' "Beat it."

"There's a school I was accepted to and-" Matilda still attempted to get her voice heard by the family that was determine to silence her.

"School?" Harry was unamused. "I already sent you to school. Now your job is to sign for packages, you little piss worm."

"I want to go. I'm not getting enough education this way," Matilda was relentless, even though a drop of fear trickled down her spine when her father stood up.

She quickly handed him the letter. "What's this?" Harry grumbled, reading it over with a frown as he glanced back up at her. "More nonsense. I've had enough of it."

They weren't listening.

"What did I tell you about interrupting my programs," Harry Wormwood said, sporting a wicked frown that caused a trickle of apprehension to course down Matilda's spine. She tried to be strong, remembering to straighten her back and look on ahead towards her father who was surprisingly tall, despite how she'd grown. Perhaps a daughter could never really grow to stand equally to a father.

"But dad," Matilda began, trying to display some semblance of confidence, despite the fact that he did cause a wave of uncertainty to wash over her in his cold brush off. Matilda, however, not one to be dissuaded, took a deep breath and preserved.

The noise around her was distracting and she was having trouble with every breath. Her father was talking, her mother was yelling, all spitting out the same message. She felt helpless, alone, and attacked. There was just so much noise and Matilda could hardly breathe.

"Hey buttmunch, move aside," her brother, Michael, was never very kind, and made it obvious when he tossed a carrot at her face. He must have forgotten the last time he tried to do such a thing.

Matilda had always been extremely careful with her powers around her parents, and this was because she saw no benefit in showing them what she could do. If anything, it could make it all worse. However, now that she did see a benefit, she savored it. She couldn't control it, and perhaps that was why she loved magic so much because it could do what she could not.

The carrot stopped mid flight, just before it could smack her face. Perhaps once, doing such a thing requires concentration and squinting, but now it was as effortless as moving her fingers. Her parents were shell shocked when the carrot flew back towards Michael, who had stood up to throw it, and smacked him straight back in the forehead. This caused him to fall back into the recliner in surprise.

However, she was still unsatisfied, so she felt the TV hover from behind her, not intentionally, but perhaps a part of her wanted to break it for the many times her parents used it to hold her hostage.

"I want to go to school. If you want to get rid of me, this is how to do that," Matilda carefully placed the television back down, now realizing what she had done.

Harry Wormwood glanced back down at the letter. "Listen, you little freak, if you want to go then I won't stop you. However, if you think I'm putting a cent of my money into your little fantasy, you're mistaken."

Her family wasn't very surprised with her outburst because perhaps a part of them always knew exactly what she was and it was silently ignored. Perhaps this was why they never actually loved her. It was difficult to love something that was so different from you. That made sense, because Matilda didn't love them either.

"I don't need your money, just your signature." Matilda was pushing her father's temper. She knew that. "If you don't then-"

"Then what?" Harry Wormwood was livid, his hands were shaking, and he might have tanned her hide if not for her next words.

"I'll call the FBI," she told him. She watched her family freeze. "I'll do it. I will."

Perhaps they will never love her, but maybe with magic in her life, love won't matter.

（╹◡╹）

Matilda wished she had threatened her father later on in her summer, because spending the next couple weeks among them was now awkward. Her father found new reasons to raise his hand, her mother spent more hours at Bingo, and her brother spent his time skipping class and showing up late.

It left Matilda home alone, which was something she rather enjoyed. This time, however, her hand rested over the phone in her father's study. The study was locked, being the only area with a phone, but locks never stopped her. She thought about what she could even say, but no words came out and she once again left the study, locking it behind her to meet McGonagall outside the house. The older woman looked so prestigious and proper, causing Matilda to wish she owned nicer clothes than the ones her mother threw together from a thrift store. Matilda never actually got new clothes even though her parents were very rich with her father's frequent money and car scams. She doubted they'd even notice she stole so much money over the years.

She saved it for a rainy day, and that day had come.

"We will pick up your materials and then head straight back promptly in the evening," Minerva McGonagall told her, holding out her arm.

"What are you doing?" Matilda asked when the professor looked at her expectingly.

"Faster travel. How strong is your stomach?" Minerva asked, and this caused the younger girl to feel nervous.

Matilda grabbed ahold of the woman's arm. "Strong. Why?"

"Three points to apparition: determination, destination, deliberation. I'll do the work, just don't think of anything else but going where I need to go."

Matilda followed the odd advice to a T, and in moments she felt the air suction out of her lungs as her body felt weak. She all but fell to her knees and likely would have if McGonagall hadn't thought to link their arms together so securely. Luckily, and it took willpower, Matilda didn't vomit. Instead, she decided it far more proper to stand up as straight as she could so she didn't pass out.

"Let's be quick and efficient," Minerva ordered, carefully aiding Matilda to stand up straight and walk. "You alright dear?"

"Mm," Matilda agreed with a touch of hesitation on her tongue. It was then that she noticed the clamoring of people at her every angle, most in peculiar fashion from dress robes to the occasional wizards hat. There was hardly any room to breathe with the crowd of people and it left the small girl breathless. She barely had time to get out a "wow" before Minerva guided her out of the crowd.

"Do they take British sterlings?" Matilda asked, and Minerva raised a brow at the sensible question.

"No, but that's what Gringotts is for," Minerva answered, watching the way Matilda's face finally lit up with a childish joy that the woman had yet to see of her. It was doubtful that joy came from the mention of a wizarding bank, so Minerva followed the girl's line of sight to see where her gaze rested.

The sight of the girl's fascination with the brooms made Minerva's lips twitch up in a small smile. Without question, the older woman promised to lead the girl back to them when their business was finished. For now, she gently assured the girl towards the bank where they would likely spend not too long to transfer the currency.

"I'm happy to hear that your parents gave you their blessing," Minerva said, watching Matilda send her fascination with every small detail of Diagon Alley.

"Oh yes, complete blessing," Matilda agreed, only to become speechless as they entered the grand bank. The ceiling was far above her and the room was an alluring golden brown, shining from the grand chandelier that rested far above their heads. This was a new world, and Matilda wanted nothing more than to explore it. She wanted to marvel at every wonder and read every book. Simply put, she just did not want to go back to her own world now that she knew this one existed.

Minerva ushered her to the Goblin that sat at the front desk, and Matilda stared up at him as expected. If he spoke to the girl, Matilda didn't hear it. She only stared up at him with her wide eyed expression of wonder. Minerva slightly smiled at the girl's amazement, but time was of the essence so she carefully grabbed Matilda's coin purse while the girl continued to remain frozen.

"Money transfer," Minerva ordered, earning a grumbled reply of agreement.

Moments later, a new bag of currency entered Matilda's hands, snapping the girl from her stupor. She thanked the goblin and Minerva dragged the girl out before Matilda could regain coherency and ask inappropriate questions that were sure to cause the goblins major chagrin.

"What next then?" Matilda asked without hesitation. Minerva McGonagall raised a single brow, but something about the girl softened the woman's normally stern persona.

"Picking out your robes, then your books, your pet if you so choose to get one, and finally your wand," the woman answered in a prompt and to the point tone of voice. She immediately noticed Matilda's disappointment, though unvoiced, and it caused Minerva to cave into the silent plea. "And if there is time, we can look at the brooms. However, first year students aren't permitted to join Quidditch."

Matilda made a promise to research what Quidditch was the moment she got the opportunity. For now, they carried onto the shop to sort out her robes. She took in every sight she could, but she couldn't help but notice that everybody was shopping with their families. This wasn't something that Matilda could ever hope to have in her life, and she felt a pang of longing and of loneliness.

She was grateful to have Minerva McGonagall at her side, but it made her wish, more than anything, that Ms. Honey was there. She wished that those papers could have been signed and she could live in that big house and roller skate inside until they were both exhausted. She wished they could go on picnics and have fun as a family. Sometimes, Matilda could imagine it as if it were real.

Instead, she just grinned and bore it, because there was no use complaining about something she had no power over. She got herself fitted for her robes, noticing, though, that there were two other boys being fitted as well. They both looked to be her age, but one was incredibly handsome.

At least, that was until he spoke.

"I come from a long line of wizards. Expecting to be sorted in Slytherin, that way, all those muggle borns can be as far away from me."

The other boy, the one with shaggy hair and glasses, looked to be just as unamused as Matilda. That much, she could take some sort of pleasure in as the blond boy continued to sprout about nonsense on how pure bloods were the only ones supposed to be practicing magic. Matilda wondered what Minerva would say to this, but unfortunately, her temporary guardian had ditched her here to go pick out her books. This disappointed the girl, since the books were the best part of it all.

The blond boy glanced at the girl when she walked into his line of sight, sitting down on the bench in patience as the head witch finished his measurements.

"And you?" It took Matilda a moment to realize he had been speaking to her, simply because she never got to speak with anybody her age with how controlling her parents were. She didn't go to libraries to chat, and abhorred conversation when reading.

"Matilda Wormwood. Muggleborn. Pleasure," she answered when she realized he asked her opinion on his bigotry remarks. The boy with the glasses glanced up, his lips slightly twitching into a smile. Matilda attempted to look friendly, but with so long not conversing with anybody, she had forgotten how to be properly social. Still, she wanted any opportunity to make friends, but just when she opened her mouth to introduce herself, the boy was called up next to get his robes fitted by the madam's assistant. Matilda sat back with a disappointed sigh, meeting the bigotry boy's eye as he sent her another disgusted glance.

Overall, she just wanted friends and she had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that there might be many people like him that wouldn't like her just because of how she was born. For the first time, she discovered what it was like to become ashamed to be 'muggleborn'.

Before long, she was eventually fitted for her robes when Minerva came with a stack of books on a cart. If the woman noticed Matilda's silence, she didn't comment on it and instead ushered the girl towards a small shop that read Ollivanders. The inside of the shop was not at all small like the outside suggested, and it went far forward that Matilda could hardly see the end. There was shelf after shelf of wands, stacked like books.

"They are beautiful," Matilda whispered, although the inside was dimly lit and rather depressing, there was a certain magic in the air that she couldn't describe.

Minerva glanced over to the small girl with a slight smile, but it was gone when the new voice surprised the both of them.

"They were all created with love and a special core," the wistful voice of an old man darted towards the front desk.

Matilda, not one for stupid questions, asked a stupid question, "is this where I can get a wand?" She scolded herself for sounding like a dumb muggle, but quickly adjusted herself. "I mean, I'm here to get a wand."

"I'll find you the perfect one," he told her.

"Can you tell me more about wands?" Matilda was a natural scholar, ever sense she was small and first discovered the written language. She wanted to know everything.

As Ollivander shifted through many boxes, his moon like eyes peered over towards the small, eleven year old girl, who gazed at him with wonderment. He doubted she wanted to miss a single breath, as if she feared the moment would pass and she'd never know any of the secrets.

"Every wand is made with a different core. No two cores are the same, well, in most cases," he stated glancing away for a moment as he grabbed a small and thin black container, more long than wide. He placed it in front of the girl. "Every wand I make have a common factors: Phoenix feather, dragon heartstring, and unicorn hair. My father used struggle with temperamental cores, so I vowed to only use the best of them and focus my area of practice on them."

"Fascinating," she replied, as she opened the wand case. Her eyes glided over the beautifully intricate designs of the wand, and it was a brilliant brown in color. It wasn't too long, and it was practically dripping with magic, until it reached the point where she could almost see it. She went to ask her next question, but he answered before she could even ask. "That is a dragon heartstring made with alder wood. It's a good, strong wand. Go on. Give it a wave."

Her eyes were shining by the time she gripped her fingers onto it, however, not even moments into her touch, it shot out a spark of fire that glided over the walls. She let the wand go with a gasp, her palms covering her face in surprise. She backed away, only for Minerva McGonagall to snap into action, waving her own wand to douse the fire with a swish.

"I am so, so sorry," Matilda began to apologize, but the man waved her off with a smile.

"It happens everyday. This shop is charmed to not allow fire to spread for that exact reason," he told her, smiling ever so kindly as she felt her own guilt set in like a cold. It raddled her bones, but she nodded her head in agreement even though she didn't quite feel it.

"What if...what if they all do that? Is there ever anybody who can't find a wand?" Matilda couldn't help the doubt that set in, even though she tried not to ask. "What if...none of them choose me?"

Ollivander leaned over the counter, waving his hand so a box flew off the shelves and right into his palm. "I'm not going to lie to you and say sometimes, certain people have a hard time. That, however, doesn't mean you are inadequate. It just means that my specific wands aren't compatible with your level of magic. It doesn't mean that the problem is with you."

Matilda tried the next wand, but it had similar effects. The next one as well, and the next, and the next. Matilda was already beginning to believe that perhaps she didn't belong here when she touched the last wand that Ollivander produced from the back. It was beautiful in design. Curved, wiggly like that of a snake. The hilt was made and carved with intricate flower and vine designs. In her hand it felt so light, yet the magic was so heavy.

"That, my dear, is an alder wood wand with unicorn hair. 10 3/4" with unyielding flexibility. Of all wand types, it is excellent for non-verbal spell work. It is drawn to only the most advanced witches and wizards," Ollivander's words made Matilda have to hide her tears as she held the wand close to her chest as if she were protecting it. "Unicorn hair is prone, however, to die if mishandled. Stay true to your path and it will be a lifelong friend."

"Thank you," Matilda whispered, going to fish out her money only for Ollivander to chuckle.

"I won't hear of it," he said, refusing her money as he glanced over towards McGonagall. "This one is yours."

Matilda felt herself crying, the entire situation much to emotional for her to handle. She quickly reached up to hug the man, mostly just so she could hide her face and partly to thank him for his generosity. "Thank you, sir!"

When she and McGonagall left the shop, Matilda wiped her tears.

"Can we agree that what just happened was a bad dream?" Matilda asked, referring to her sobbing into the shoulder of a stranger.

"Why? What happened?" McGonagall said with a slight smile as she pushed the trolly with all Matilda's school supplies. "Next is a pet, if you so choose to get one."

"No thanks," Matilda said quickly. "My parents would never let a pet through the door."

"Then we've done all that needs be done. What's say we look at those brooms now?"

Matilda's face brightened up more than she had ever experienced in the last couple years. "Please!"


	4. The Train

Chapter 3

**MATILDA WORMWOOD WAS RIDDEN WITH PANIC **as she approached the brick pillar, still remembering Minerva McGonagall's instructions to merely walk into it. That was easier said than done, and Matilda couldn't help but feel the apprehension creep up her neck. Still, she figured there was no use standing around and risking unnecessary attention, so she merely walked into the pillar with her fingers gripping around the metal cart. She gulped, but she felt her body slip through the barrier with no issue, as if the pillar were made from water instead of breaks.

Children swarmed over the platform, excited with their parents at their side. The chatter and life filled the air with a sickly sweet murmur that made a slight smile spread over Matilda's lips. She went to move her cart, only for someone to slam into her cart with a thump. She glanced over towards the boy in question, noticing his dark skin and extremely short hair. He raised an eyebrow, as if signifying her to move faster.

"I apologize," she told him, quickly clearing out of his way. In doing so, one of her textbooks dropped to the ground, having loosened from its placement from the ramming of their carts. She closed her eyes for a moment, slightly embarrassed and feeling foolish for it. The boy, however, let out a sigh, lifting the book up to her to take. "I'm Matilda."

He raised a single brow, once more reminding Matilda that her company might not be desired. He must have decided to give her a break, and he said, "Blaise Zabini."

Matilda nodded, walking beside him, coincidentally going at the same pace. She felt better in his company, especially since most of everyone was saying goodbye to their parents while she and him were one of the only ones alone. She loaded her cart onto the storage room on the train, once more nearly bumping into Blaise as she did. She awkwardly smiled, but his face remained impassive, causing her to feel all the more uncomfortable. She walked past him, retreating onto the train.

The inside was luxurious, aligned with bits of red outlining the sides of the walkway. She ran her fingers over the wood, feeling the cool brush under her fingertips as a sense of wonder clouded her senses. She took a step forward, then another, and before long she got her legs to finally move down the narrow path. Her eyes peered into the many rooms, watching as many had already been taken by children or teens who were just laughing amongst themselves.

Feeling a brush of loneliness, she settled into the first empty one she could find all whilst hugging her bag close to her side. The moment she was alone, she opened her pack and pulled out a one of her text books, Magical Drafts and Potions. It was the only one of her textbooks she had yet to finish, mostly due to there being just so many and she'd hate to be caught unaware lest they start to think they made a mistake in letting her come to this school in the first place. She couldn't be sent home now, for her mother and father would never let her forget it.

When strapped with a good book, Matilda lost herself in the pages, barely paying attention when the door to her compartment opened. She peered over the binding and towards the entrance where Blaise walked in, and sat down across from her. His face remained impassive and she could tell he wasn't there to make conversation. She offered him a kind smile, but made certain to keep her mouth shut. She lowered her gaze back to her book and began to jot down notes and reminders in her mind as she read.

She had thought to write notes, but all she had were rolls of parchment and a quill with a bottle of ink. It was hardly a practical method of taking notes, but she dared not question the supply list Minerva McGonagall had instructed her with, so she brought it without complaint. However, she truly didn't see how a roll of parchment was more practical than a note book and a pencil.

Unfortunately, she only had one notebook and she would rather save the pages for important notes rather than frivolous jottings. She nearly jumped from her thoughts when the train began to move, the soft vibrations rumbling from underneath her feet. She glanced out the window, able to see the soft cloud of smoke from the train, fogging up her window. She pressed her palm against the glass, feeling the rumblings of the train, like a monster springing to life, and then watched as it jolted forward.

It was a slow decent into speed, and it made her cheeks burn with a soft smile as she pressed her face close to the glass as if to peer outside. She wanted to see more, but it was a limited view outside.

"Isn't it exciting?" Matilda asked, glancing over to Blaise who had his head turned towards the window panels. He still didn't look anymore comfortable with starting a conversation, but she was anxious for some kind, any kind, of communication.

For her, she nearly felt starved from human contact and all she wanted was to speak with somebody with a couple brain cells. Her mother was always only interested in drama and her own face. Her father likely lost the last of his intelligence on the day she glued his hat to his head and he was forced to cut it off with scissors. Whatever remained of it was likely still stuck on that hat. She had her brother, but he was high most of the day and she highly doubted if he ever had brain cells.

Blaise was silent for a long time, just staring her down as she still had a hand pressed against the glass. Finally, after a long while just staring into her eyes, he finally let out a deep sigh, throwing her a bone and answering her question.

"I guess," he said with a sigh. She felt her smile begin to waver when he went right back to staring aimlessly out the window. It wasn't the conversation she craved, but she understood that she couldn't force someone to talk to her.

She went right back to her book, but now her mind was lost in the window and the trees that rushed outside the train window. She wanted nothing more than to feel that breeze, to get back to the school of her dreams.

It was funny, she always knew there was something she desired for her whole lifetime. She just never would have guessed this was what it was and now that she was here, she just had to stay sane. She had to be in control. She couldn't screw it up.

She knew her magic was strong. She always knew that there was something different about her and despite that, she knew she couldn't ask even Minerva Mcgonagall. A part of her was afraid to know. She wanted to fit in and stop being an outcast on the sidelines.

"You should change," Blaise said, not long towards the middle of the journey. Matilda glanced towards him, but he wasn't looking at her. She glanced down at her skirt and jumper, slowly nodding with a small sign of gratitude before she jumped up to her feet and shakily motioned to slide open the sliding doors out the cabin.

The hallway of the train was empty and the cabins passing were filled with envious laughter and conversation. She couldn't complain, however, since she'd rather have Blaise's company than to be saddled with nobody. Nothing would be more lonely.

The train lurched, causing a fraction of unbalance just as a cabin door opened and a boy stepped out. She tripped, falling onto her ass at the same time as him. She recognized his disheveled haired and thick glasses as the boy from the robes shop. Her lips spread into a friendly smile while his cheeks enflamed into a solid red.

"I know you!" Matilda perhaps came off as a bit too excited, but she felt if she didn't, she'd never make any friends.

"O-oh. Yeah. The scar. I won't be getting used to people knowing me right off the bin," he said in an awkward tone that made her wonder if he were perhaps famous.

"No. From the shop. Getting our robes. I'm Matilda Wormwood. Pleasure," she said, standing back up and dusting her skirt.

"Everything alright, Harry," said the voice of a ginger boy as he opened the cabin door. "Oh. 'Ello. I-I'm Ron Wesley."

"Matilda," she greeted again. She went to say something else, perhaps a way to make them her friends, but when she felt a pang in her gut, she knew that it was impossible. The burn spread over her skin like a thousand knives and she glanced behind them where the girl's lavatory rested. "It was lovely meeting you."

She rushed out of their way before either could get another word. She all but threw open the door and didn't even bother turning on the light before she locked the door behind her. Her stomach was hurting, but in the dark of the loo, she could breathe.

"You're okay. You're okay. You're normal," Matilda chanted to herself, as if she could repeat it enough to make it true. Her blood was boiling and she could feel that entity in her chest grow stronger. She had gone so long without an episode, so long without flying off the rails and actually hurting somebody. She had to keep it up.

Whenever things like this happened, her solace was picturing the life that could have been hers. She pictured picnics in the park with Ms. Honey. She imagined being raised by a woman who actually cared enough to nurture her abilities for good. She thought about roller skating in that big house and actually being able to call somebody her mother.

The darkness that had spread over the dim room slowly crept back into the shadows of her body as she forced it to do as she asked. As if it were something living, it often rebelled. "You're okay. You're normal."

She was too afraid to find out that if even amongst her kind, she would be an outcast.

She sat in the dark, her head in her knees, when the train finally came to an abrupt stop. It lurched her forwards and reminded her that she still hadn't gotten changed. She did so quickly, and opened up the door only to be merged into the crowd of students who were restless to get out of the train to see the school. She couldn't even attempt to go back to the cabin where Blaise and her books rested.

The outside was stunning, and the night sky was breathtaking. Along with it was the moon that lit up the lake in a soft array of black and silver. She barely remembered the walk before she spotted Blaise leaning against the train. They made eye contact before he pushed off and held up her book and satchel. She took it and opened her mouth to express her gratitude.

"Zabini, lets get this boat," said a group of kids off to the right. They were already boarding the boat and Blaise took no time to join them. She motioned to step after him before realizing that with him, their boat was a full team of four.

Watching him begin to sail away with a group stung, but she couldn't let that dissuade her from her enjoyment of the castle. She did desperately want to get to know him, but trying too hard would only bring her humiliation.

A giant man stood in the middle of the crowd of students, ushering and helping kids onto the boats. He looked scary, but his eyes were kind, so Matilda approached him without hesitation. She opened her mouth to greet him, but his eyes were set on the boy with scraggy hair and glasses.

"Ello Harry," the man said, and proceeded to ignore the other students in order to get this one boy to a boat. Matilda stood back, awkward and uncomfortable.

Most of the students had already boarded their boats by the time he noticed her. By then, she was too absorbed in her own awkwardness to make conversation. He ushered her to a boat, one that was practically empty with nothing but a girl with light brown hair, like crushed chestnuts smeared into a soft hue. She met Matilda's gaze with an airy and light glance.

"Hello there." Even the brunette girl's voice was kind, but it was absent with emotion.

"I'm Matilda," she said, not wanting to miss her chance to make a friend. Everyone else seemed to have already made their lifelong companions on the train. "How do you do?"

"I'm Ariana. How do you do?"

She didn't answer Matilda's 'how do you do', which the girl found to be rather amusing. Still, despite Ariana's airy tone, Matilda had a remarkable ability for discovering people's character just by their eyes. Even despite Blaise's obvious disregard for her, Matilda knew that he was a good person.

"Isn't it exciting?" Matilda asked, hoping this time, the person she asked this to would answer it without looking like her voice was an inconvenience.

"Oh yes. Very exciting. My brother would tell stories about the castle. I am excited to discover my own to tell him," Ariana said, and Matilda felt a pang of jealousy, but she pushed it down so it could not fester. "He's a bit of a tosser, you see, so I'm anxious to have something to comment." Matilda didn't have a comment for that, so she moved on past it.

"I do hope there's food," Matilda said, tilting her head to the side and running her fingers along the black lake as their boat slid across it.

"What house are you keen on?" Ariana asked, and Matilda raised her eyes. She had read the books, done her research, but she didn't know which house would be good for her. The characteristic they looked for, she liked to believe she had all of them. How could they choose? At that point, she only wished to be in Ariana's house. Or Blaise. Or that scraggly boy, Harry. Or the ginger boy, Ron.

She just didn't want to be alone.

"I don't particularly mind which," Matilda answered. "I just want somewhere to sleep so I can study in the morning."

The boat was awkwardly silent at first, being that it was only her and Ariana and neither girls knew how to keep up conversation. Slowly, however, they got the hang of it and got to talking to one another. They spoke about shallow things like favorite foods or favorite anything really. For most part, neither girl was very good at conversation so it all came about rather flat.

Matilda didn't have much in common with others, let alone kids who grew up among wizards and happy parents.

"My favorite house is one that has a good view of the sky," Ariana admitted, and Matilda smiled wide.

"That would be splendid."

"You have an accent. I did not realize Americans would be amongst the students of Hogwarts," Ariana said and that brought about yet another point that stroke a pang of fear in the young girl's heart.

"I haven't been American in a long while," Matilda said, still remembering the fragrance of flowers outside Ms. Honey's small cottage. Despite the years, that was often what she thought of when she pictured home.

"I've always wanted to see San Francisco," Ariana said, her voice so light that it was a wonder Matilda could hear her over the sounds of laughter of the other kids in the boats.

Matilda would have liked to see anything after so long in the dark.

The boats pulled up to shore, and Matilda was nearly shoved by other students at every turn in their hasty attempts to make it to the great big castle that nearly looked as if it could reach the stars. Matilda felt her eyes water as she approached, and she opened her mouth to say something to Ariana, but the brown haired girl was nowhere to be seen.

Matilda frowned, but did not let that discourage her or turn her into an anxious kitten amongst the crowd of many. She nearly tripped many times up the great stairs that led up the cliff. When all the students lined up in front of the castle, she watched the great big doors slowly open at the giant's knock that sounded three times.

The door swung open, revealing professor McGonagall, or at least what she could see of the woman from behind all the students that blocked her sight. She was too short, and she heard the man, Hagrid as it were, exchange words of greeting. The doors opened wide, but Matilda couldn't really see it until all the students had practically flooded inside the gigantic entrance hall.

There were no lamps or light bulbs, perhaps because they were out in the middle of nowhere, and instead the walls were light in a basking glow from flame torches. Not even those could help see where the ceiling began and ended, but did illuminate the marble staircase facing her straight ahead.

Matilda could hear laughter and life through the doors to her right, and she nearly wondered if McGonagall would even notice if one lone student snuck off to join those festivities. She contained that feeling, having promised herself to stay out of trouble at least once. She followed the students into a rather small empty chamber off the hall where they all crowded inside. Matilda wasn't happy with the amount of space she was offered, but she dared not be the first one to complain that she was practically suffocating.

McGonagall greeted them, droning on about the houses and the classes they would take, the sorting ceremony, and the like. All of which Matilda had long since read about in Hogwarts: A History, so she didn't put all her attention on the speech for a second time.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

How Matilda tried, but her heart lurched when she heard Harry and Ron's familiar voices to her left. She politely moved past other students in her attempts to draw near them.

She didn't get far as many ghosts flooded the halls around her and her eyes widened at their pearly white figures weren't the same as the text books had described. She caught the eye of a scary looking one off in the back, lingering near the statue of a knight with his robes filled with blood and wrapped with chains.

"How do you do?" Matilda had a hard time talking to the other first years, but she spoke quickly to the dead. He, however, did not answer her. "I'll say, I'm sure you get this a lot, but you have the most spectacular eyes." They were wide, as if he had seen too much. That was fine with her, she had seen quite a bit too.

"Move among now. The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin," McGonagall said, her voice sharp enough to cut through steel. Matilda had wanted to talk more with the man, but she didn't seem to have luck on her side when she wanted to get to know anybody.

She waved goodbye to the man, who watched her every move as if he had reason to fear her despite him already being dead. She escaped into another room, lit by thousands upon thousands of candles in the sky like ceiling, just above four long tables that made rows in the room. She took notice to every detail, lost in them when the hat on the stage had begun to sing.

She was lost in excitement, watching students try on the hat and become placed in their houses.

She finally caught sight of Ariana when her name was called with a loud "Bletchley, Ariana," and she looked so at peace when the hat was placed on her head. "Ravenclaw!" She was sorted not long into time. That peaceful look slowly morphed into excitement, as if that had not been the calling she expected.

"Bletchley, Alice." This time, a girl identical to Ariana walked up on stage, coming the opposite side of the crowd of students as her sister. The only true difference in physical appearance between the two were the slight curls in Alice's hair. More than that, Alice had a certain haughtiness in her gaze that made Matilda wonder if she thought she owned the entire room.

The hat barely touched Alice's head before the booming voice shouted "Slytherin!" Matilda adamently decides that Slytherin couldn't be bad either if she could somehow become friends with somebody there, but that someone she preferred was Ariana. Alice took a seat far as can be from her sister, next to a slightly older boy in green robes who immediately put his arm around the girl's shoulders. The ceremony went on.

"Boot, Terry."

"Ravenclaw!"

"Bulstrode, Millicient."

"Slytherin."

The scene went on like that, kids being sorted and going to their table. It seemed easy enough and even Matilda was unlikely to mess that up.

Not much time later, Harry went onto the stage next after his name was called. People whispered from all around her, saying things like "The Harry Potter." This was strange for her, but she didn't want to ask lest they think she were a fool for not knowing. She did get some social cues like "he doesn't look like he could defeat you-know-who."

Matilda's nose wrinkled, suddenly very confused about the whole thing. Still, she supposed there were other times to ask her questions than now. Harry was taking a frightfully long time to get sorted, and many of the first years who had not been sorted got understandably anxious. She was nervous along with them, but she just wanted to get on with it so she could be seated. Only then could she actually learn something worthwhile and really prove that this place was where she belonged.

"Gryffindor!" After a long time, Harry was sorted and Matilda let out a breath of relief.

Not too long after that, her name was called. There weren't many students at that time, so all eyes were truly on her when she sat on the stool and the hat was placed upon her head.

"Ah," said the hat, his booming voice echoing in her head. "So much in this small head of yours."

She had read so many books by now, practically cleaning out the local library. Perhaps it had been too many. "I assure you, my head is adequate to my body."

"Awfully brave. Very kind. Genius intelligence. Ambition to succeed." The hat's remarks made her lips thin, hoping he'd speed it all up so the kids would only stop staring at her. "Where to put you?"

Her potential friends were in two different houses, so she truly wanted to be in either.

"This is about you, not where your friends were placed." The hat's comment was harsh, and it made her bite her lip rather hard. "What is it you want?"

"I don't only want to belong," she admitted, and her eyes ran over the students who might think she could never. "I want to succeed."

"Ahh," the hat said, as if it had a revaluation. Out loud, its voice boomed, "Slytherin!"

Neither Ariana, Ron, or Harry were sorted in Slytherin, and while that was lonely and disappointing, her lips spread into a wide smile. She sat amongst the Slytherin table who welcomed her, attempting a seat near Ariana's twin, only to see the girl didn't look at all friendly. Not long after that, Blaise was finally sorted and he took a seat across from her.

"You made it," she whispered, her smile bright as the food then appeared as if it erupted from the wood around her.

Blaise glanced over to her, and perhaps they would never be best friends, but Matilda was thankful she wasn't completely alone.

**Author's Not**

Can you believe how long that took ?

There's so much more to come for this series, since it will be dealing with puberty, growing older, and making friends. You know, kid stuff. All including a wizard Hitler that is hell bent on killing a portion of the population. Exciting stuff planned for the future.

I did I have a bit of trouble sorting Matilda, since if I were going off of who she was in the original movie when she was six years old, I'd say she honestly could have been any of the houses since she embodied all those characteristics. After some contemplation, I inevitably decided on Slytherin based on who she is now and the life she has led up until this point. I just thought this was for the best.

Also, I'm a Slytherin and I have a personal bias for it, and I think she displays many Slytherin traits.


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